Temptation and Surrender by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online

common room as their communal gathering place, so to speak.”
    She turned back to the common room, fighting to ignore the sudden thudding of her pulse. His eyes at close quarters, even in the dimness, were so rich, their depths so alluring. “Do you happen to know where the women presently gather to chat?”
    This time when he answered, she sensed arrested interest in his voice. “I don’t know that they do.”
    She smiled, once again glancing up over her shoulder. “All the better for us, then.”
    Jonas met her eyes, felt again the power of her devastating smile.
    He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved when, after briefly holding his gaze, she turned back to the room.
    “Who’s the man Crabbe’s speaking with?”
    He told her. She progressed through the inn’s customers, asking him to supply names, directions, and marital status for each. He could, and did, somewhat taken aback—faintly perturbed—that she could so easily not dismiss but brush aside the attraction between them. He might have wondered if she’d even felt it if he hadn’t detected that initial breathlessness. Hadn’t noticed how tightly she was clutching her elbows, as if holding on to them would anchor her.
    He could appreciate the impulse; standing so close to her, close enough, in the dim shadows, to breathe in the scent that rose from her skin, from her gleaming hair, he felt a trifle giddy himself.
    Which was…unusual. He’d never met a woman, let alone a lady, who so effortlessly drew him, who so easily captured his interest and held it.
    And effortlessly was the appropriate word. He was perfectly aware that she hadn’t intended to, still didn’t intend to, affect him at all.
    To attract him.
    Heaven knew she was currently doing her damnedest to do anything but encourage him.
    A pity that he was…even more stubborn than he sensed she was.
    Their survey of the inn’s current patrons completed, she half turned, in the gloom cast a swift glance up at his face. “I looked in the office, but couldn’t find the inn’s accounts. No records of any kind, in fact. Do you have them?”
    He didn’t immediately reply. His brain didn’t immediately take in the question, too busy considering the scintillating possibilities of their current position. The hall was short, narrow, and relatively dark. He’d been standing quite close behind her. Now she’d turned…the top of her head barely reached his collarbone. To look into his face, she had to tilt her head back and look up…all the while standing so close that if he took a deep breath his coat would brush her breasts.
    He looked into her eyes, even in the dimness saw her battle the urge to take a large step back—but he’d been right in thinking her stubborn. She all but swayed with the impulse to put distance between them, but held her ground.
    The moment stretched, stretched—was on the verge of growing awkward when he capitulated, took a step back, and smoothly waved her into the office.
    She went past him a touch quickly, crossing the tiny room to slip behind the desk, leaving its scarred expanse between them. She didn’t sit, but looked up at him as he filled the doorway.
    When he said nothing, simply stood there, watching her, a faint frown formed in her eyes.
    He remembered her question. Propping one shoulder against the door frame, he answered, “There are no accounts or records—at least not for the last decade. Juggs didn’t believe in writing anything down.”
    Her frown materialized. “How did he keep track of the profits, then?”
    “He didn’t. The arrangement he had with my father was a fixed rent per month, and he paid that, and kept whatever excess profit he made.” He hesitated, then admitted, “In retrospect that wasn’t the wisest arrangement to have made. Juggs didn’t really care if the inn was successful or not, just as long as he made enough to meet the rent.” He smiled. “The deal you and I struck was distinctly more sensible.”
    She